Truth in Plain Things
by ifyoucanfindmeimhere
Summary: "He didn't tell her that he needed this time, this moment to examine the state of things, to know the truth that even now she wouldn't fully tell him."


He had made the offer genuinely, and was beyond relieved when she accepted, but secretly he had been nervous about living with her. It had been years since he had shared his space with another, and suddenly a million tiny potential minefields began to worry his consciousness. Would the light he liked to read by before bed bother her and keep her awake when she so needed her rest? Was she a light sleeper, apt to be woken by an early morning trip to the head, or if he happened to snore? If she needed him in the night, would he be able to hear her all the way out on the couch? Would she even accept his help, even if she needed it?

To his relief, they fell into an easy rhythm of cohabitation, as if they had been living together for three years instead of three weeks. The light wasn't a problem (they read together before parting ways to sleep), sleep itself wasn't an issue (treatments and diloxin brought her a deep, exhausted slumber; his own body had tuned itself to her, waking him at the first sound of a whimper or muffled cry coming from his rack), and though it was not owed or expected, by unspoken rule they tried to share both breakfast and dinner, and sincere apologies were made when an early meeting or late shift claimed either one away.

They both rose from their beds at the daily call from the Night Watch. It worked out that Laura was not a morning person, and that after a quick trip to relieve himself they crossed paths as she stumbled into the head for a hot shower to wake her up, sharing a chaste kiss on the cheek in greeting between them, a habit that had started one day in jest, and had become as part of their routine as his making her bed for her while she was in the shower.

The first time he did it, she had noticed immediately and looked at him with trepidation, apologizing profusely for what she assumed must have been a terrible military slight, and insisting that the next day she'd be happy to do it. He had cut her off with a laugh, assuring her that it wasn't necessary, that it was simply an ingrained habit of his that he was far too old to change now. When she still didn't look convinced, he offered an exchange- he would make the bed, if she would make the first pot of coffee, his ability coax the slight flavor from the algae beans far inferior to both her and the galley. She took the deal gladly, and admitted with a grin that she had been worried about trying to emulate his ability to wheedle the rumpled sheets she abandoned in the morning into the clean lines of his inspection-worthy bed.

He didn't tell her that he needed this time, this moment to examine the state of things, to know the truth that even now she wouldn't fully tell him. A good night, and the sheets were merely a bit disarrayed, and it was quick work to fold them in and make the bed. Rougher nights and the edges would pull away from the corners, and it would take a few more minutes to tuck them back into the frame and smooth the wrinkles where she had clutched the sheets in sleep. On the worst nights, he saw first hand how the sheets and blankets were torn away and pulled and twisted around her as she sought relief from the pain. There had not been too many of those nights yet, but he could feel more of them on the horizon.

Smoothing out her pillow, he gathered the clump of loose red hairs together, self-consciously making sure she was still safely ensconced in the shower before tucking them into his pocket. There were more today than yesterday. There were more yesterday than there had been the day before. The sheets had pulled away from the edges again, and the top blanket had been kicked to the ground. He moved quickly, smoothing and replacing and folding, just finishing as she stepped out of the head, surrounded by a thick plume of steam.

She smiled as she passed him on her way to the closet, her eyes darting to the now neat and tidy bed. "Thank you, Bill."

He nodded in reply, and stepped towards the head, her voice finding him just as he lathered up his face and began to shave.

"I'll get the coffee ready."


End file.
